


purpose from within

by BlueSapphire718



Series: we will reach the skies (with the stars in our minds) [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Friendship, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23921782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSapphire718/pseuds/BlueSapphire718
Summary: Wolffe has never seen a sight as graceful as this.(Or, Plo raids Kamino and Wolffe might be a little in love.Might.)
Relationships: Plo Koon & Ahsoka Tano, Plo Koon & Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: we will reach the skies (with the stars in our minds) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714204
Comments: 14
Kudos: 236





	purpose from within

**Author's Note:**

> Completely inspired by blackkat's AU #12 that can be found in her tumblr!
> 
> I plan to make this and a couple of other fics a spin-off series to her AU, so look forward to that! Hopefully weekly updates but by this point, it's kinda obvious that I won't be able to.

Wolffe has never seen a sight as graceful as this.

The Jedi is weaving through the blaster shots with unbelievable grace and speed, the green lightsaber deflecting the shots into the ceiling, the floor, everywhere. The shots ring in his ears as he motions Sinker to the right, his brother following his orders, quickly settling down on the other side of the hallway. Shouts and cries echo in his comn, but he ignores it for the favour of trying to shoot the Jedi down.

It could be a major victory for them if the Jedi just stayed _still_.

“Status!” Wolffe barks over the comn, and he can hear Boost let out a loud groan. The Jedi tilts his head to the side, barely dodging a blaster shot that’s meant for the head. Sinker lets out a curse beside him, slinking out head behind the Jedi, perhaps to aim at his back.

“We’re failing miserably, if that’s what you’re asking, Wolffe,” Comet says, before a string of curses reach his ears. “I am going to kick this _jetii_ ’s **_shebs_**.”

“Get in the kriffing line,” he growls back, aiming for the Jedi again.

The Jedi’s movements are faster now, his arms moving in a blur as the lightsaber deflects back shot after shot, and- Wolffe can’t tell what the Jedi’s feeling, though he can see skin crinkling close to where the eye patches are. His shoulders are relaxed, his posture is almost lazy, now that he realizes it.

Like the Jedi’s _amused_ with this.

Is the Jedi _toying_ with them? _Again_?

He grits his teeth, his grip tightening on his blaster as he presses himself against the wall, aims again. He’s not going to let this damn Jedi toy with them again and take his brothers away like they are nothing. His heart tightens and he nearly growls, no words describing how he’s feeling.

Another blaster shot flies right back at them, nearly knocks his helmet off and a shriek of undisguised shock comes through the comns.

“Really, gentlemen,” the Jedi says in amusement, just as Wolffe fires a shot at him. It deflected back with one strike, then three more strikes at several more blaster shots. Wolffe bites the inside of his cheek as he scowls. “There’s no need to attack me.”

Wolffe resists the urge to close his eyes and let out a groan, ignores how those words seem to seemingly make his heart beat faster; instead, he ducks under a shot and throws his blaster at the infuriating Jedi. Boost makes a loud noise of disbelief as the Jedi slices through the said blaster, starts moving backwards. “Okay, what the _kriff_ , Wolffe. That was a nice blaster!”

He elects to ignore that comment.

Something makes the Jedi spin around, just seconds before Sinker fires a shot at him. It rings in his ears, the way the sound echoes loudly above all the other blaster shots. The shot is deflected like all the others, though the Jedi tilts his head to the side and _moves_.

Sinker lets out a screech of surprise when the Jedi jumps over him with a well-balanced flip, darts towards the ends of the hallway, and disappears. Cheers and shouts slowly erupts behind him as he still stares after the Jedi. It’s surprising to have the Jedi run off so fast, not when they have been shooting at him for the past hour- he pauses, furrows his brows.

It’s been happening for the last few times they’ve been facing this Jedi, given the way the Jedi just appears out of nowhere in the facilities. Then the Jedi suddenly escapes and they have a few missing brothers-

 _No_.

His breathing staggers when he realizes. They have been _tricked_.

“Raise the alarms to shut down every hangar!” Wolffe snarls out, before he marches over to the other side of the hallway and steals Boost’s blaster. His brother lets out a protest, and he ignores it, turns off his comn, immediately breaking out into a run as he tries to figure out which hangar the Jedi would head to.

There’s hangars at every entrance of the cloning facilities, each marked for different types of uses. Some are for cargo, others are for medical use, while there are some for the important guests like Count Dooku and General Grievous. He barely likes those two, but he’s a soldier, moulded to serve them, and he has to perform his duties.

 _Good soldiers follow orders_.

The Jedi will have to go to a hangar that’s close by, and the only one Wolffe can think of is the one by the cadets’ quarters. _Oh_ , he thinks as he turns to the right and heads down another corridor. That means that the Jedi plans to kidnap some of the cadets and escape from Kamino with them in tow. If that happens, the Separatists will lose a few soldiers. Not that it’s a huge loss; they’ll make more, anyways.

Turns another right, and hears, “Alright, do any of you remember what I discussed the last time I was here?”

“We have to... sit quietly so we can go away and go to a new home?” a cadet’s voice asks in confusion. Wolffe settles next to the wall and strains to hear the rest of the conversation. They’re close, but he can’t risk them seeing him. “Away from evil man and evil... evil... weird machine man?”

That is by far the strangest description Wolffe has ever heard of Count Dooku and General Grievous.

“Very good!” the Jedi says encouragingly. “Yes, I will take you away from... the evil man and the... weird machine man.” He sounds amused. “Alright, when you go inside, sit near the wall where the cockpit is. You may say hello to my pilot, but other than that, don’t make a sound or else the evil man will find you.”

“Okay,” the same cadet says determinedly. “So he can go into a sarlacc and die?”

Wolffe chokes.

All the Jedi does is chuckle. “Every life is precious, even yours. But you are right; he can go into a sarlacc and die. Now, up you go. Say hello to my pilot for me.”

A quiet and cheerful chorus of “Okay” comes from there, before there’s a clatter of footsteps and excited chatter that vanishes a few seconds later. He doesn’t understand why they would choose to run when all they need to do is serve, even if he wants to run himself. Silence, and then- “I see that my display wasn’t enough to deter you, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Wolffe agrees, rises from his spot and turns around the corner of the walls to see the Jedi standing next to a ship’s ramp. He’s standing there calmly, like he just didn’t usher up a bunch of cadets into the ship. “What did you do to trick them? Offer them something they’ll never have?”

The Jedi tilts his head to the side. “No, I gave them an opportunity to start anew.”

“You mean to turn them into soldiers for you Jedi scum,” Wolffe corrects roughly, narrows his eyes at the Jedi as he aims his blaster. He refuses to be swayed by his enemy, the one who has been opposing the Separatists since the war began. 

There’s a moment of silence before the Jedi says quietly, with certainty, “No. They chose to be free, and I will help them to do so.”

Wolffe jerks back in shock when the Jedi’s lightsaber nearly grazes him, a flash of green swiping over his face. The Jedi’s movements are fast, calculated, even if it’s entirely impossible to tell what the Jedi is thinking by his rebreather and eye patches. Instincts take over, makes him duck under another swipe before Wolffe skids back and fires at him.

It’s deflected to one of the cargo containers close to them, results in a loud explosion and when he glances towards it, the thing is destroyed. Wolffe growls and fires another shot, and the Jedi dodges, before he stops and looks up in alarm. He inclines his head, slightly confused by the Jedi had stopped before faint shouting reaches his ears.

His brothers are here.

“You’ll be stopped,” Wolffe says victoriously, and ignores the small twinge in his heart.

The Jedi seemingly smiles. “No,” he says simply, “I’m afraid that’s where you are wrong.”

Something hits the back of his head, and he feels himself stumble and fall, hitting the ground with a loud **_thud_ ** of armor. His vision swims in front of him, slightly dazed as he watches the Jedi’s feet approach him. “My apologies for this, good sir,” the Jedi’s voice seemingly fading away.

It turns black.

Plo hums as he rummages through the extra ration bars he’s packed in the bag before he and Ahsoka had left for Kamino. It’s slightly relieving, relieving to be far away from the Separatists and their hands. If Dooku was there, there’s no telling what would have happened, other than becoming a prisoner.

Ahsoka could have escaped, but she’s almost as stubborn as Anakin, even more so after being introduced to each other. She’s young, impressionable, and that makes him worry about her. Still, Ahsoka’s growing, learning, and Plo has no doubt she will make a wonderful Jedi Knight one day.

Once the war is over, anyways.

Something flickers at the edge of his senses, dull awareness before panic overtakes it, and he smiles behind his rebreather. The clone is waking up. “Master Plo!” one of the clone cadets calls to him, makes him incline his head towards them before he looks. Drel, by the looks of his haircut and usual bright eyes. “Commander Wolffe’s waking up!”

“Is he now?” Plo asks lightly, like he didn’t feel a thing. “How about you all go ask Ahsoka where some of the snacks are? I’m quite sure that she will be happy to tell you.”

“No ration bars?” Snowy asks suspiciously, blinking light grey eyes up at him.

“Not unless you finish all of your snacks during this trip before we arrive home,” he promises. “Then we will worry about ration bars.”

Quiet cheers echo around the room before Drel scrambles for the door with a large grin, Snowy at his heels with the rest of the clone cadets. Ahsoka’s faint shout in the distance most likely means they managed to storm the cockpit and ask for the snacks he’s mentioned to them. He glances towards the clone on the bed, his wrists shackled and his breathing slow, but Plo can feel his mind working, trying to figure out where he is.

“It is good to see you awake, Commander,” Plo says, watches the clone wretch his eyes open before closing them and letting out a groan. “Perhaps you would like to sit up and we can talk about your circumstances?”

“ _Jetii_ ,” Wolffe, the clone, snarls quietly. Plo only inclines his head to the side and feels slightly amused when the clone struggles to sit up. Reaches out with his own hands to steady Wolffe, feels him stiffen, helps him sit up and lean against the wall next to the bed. “I should-“

“If you kill me right now, there’s no telling what my Padawan will do to you,” Plo interrupts him with a warning, feels Ahsoka’s flicker of amusement when she interacts with the tiny clones. “We are currently in hyperspace, and I doubt you’ll want us to get lost. Besides, I doubt there is much you can do to me when cuffed.”

The clone scoffs, like he doesn’t believe him. “Wanna test that?” Wolffe challenges.

“I’m afraid that will have to be the next date we have together,” Plo says cheerfully, and lightly chuckles when the clone splutters, a dull red flushed on his cheeks and wide brown eyes. 

“ _What_.”

“Now-“

“What do you mean by _next date_ , Jedi-“

“-please do not go anywhere in this ship unless myself or my Padawan are watching you. This is merely to ensure that you do not jeopardize the ship into malfunctioning,” Plo says instead of answering his question, observes him as Wolffe frowns and leans back against the wall, seemingly unsure. His aura indicates otherwise, but Plo doesn’t say a thing. “Do you require some time alone, and perhaps something to eat?”

“Something to eat if you can,” the clone says begrudgingly.

“That is fine.” Plo rises from his seat and smiles. “Do you need water as well?”

“... yes.”

“I will be back shortly, then.”

When Plo slips out and the doors slide shut behind him, he can’t help but wonder what Wolffe is exactly thinking. He would never intrude on someone’s thoughts without their permission, but it’s troubling to see the clone resigned to his fate. Perhaps he can ask one of the Jedi Knights to keep an eye on him to make sure he isn’t suffering.

He feels his talons click against his arm guards, hears the murmurs and cries of delight growing louder as he nears the cockpit. Plo waits for the doors to open, and has to smile when Snowy hands a space waffle to Tin and Drel laughing with Ahsoka. The other clone cadets are huddled together and asleep, their breathing reaching his hearing.

“Master!” Ahsoka greets once she sees him, a bright smile spread across her face. “Are you feeling alright? Did that clone hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Ahsoka, and no, he did not,” he says as he nears Drel. “How are you, Drel?”

“I’m okay, Master Plo,” Drel says with wide eyes before he glances towards the door. It’s good to see that the clones care for each other, to an intimate level of brothers. “Is Commander Wolffe alright?”

Plo nods. “He’s fine, he just needs rest and something to eat. What would you suggest that we give Commander Wolffe to eat?”

“Space waffles,” Drel says as Snowy cries, “Brownies!”

Ahsoka exchanges a glance with him as Tin looks up from his snack. “Both,” Tin informs them seriously, and- oh, he _is_ serious. Plo chuckles and ruffles Drel’s hair as Tin begins to explain his reasoning. “Everyone likes space waffles and brownies. They’re yummy and sweet and good when you need a hug.”

“I will offer them to the Commander, then,” Plo says just as seriously as Tin hands him two packages of both of the snacks. He hears Snowy let out a squeal of surprise when something crashes behind him; no doubt that was Tyun.

Wolffe cracks open his eyes when the doors to his little cell opens, with the Jedi walks in with two packages of food. The lightsaber tightly clings to his belt, and the Jedi seems to be amused when he drops the said packages into his lap. His head pounds painfully, hurts, but he knows better than to admit his wounds.

“What,” Wolffe says steadily, like he hasn’t been knocked out a few minutes before, “the kriff is that.”

“Tin says you need space waffles and brownies because you need a hug,” the Jedi informs him seriously, and- hugs? Wolffe isn’t sure what exactly gave the cadet the idea that food, much less sugary food, can give hugs. Kids, he thinks as he tries to tear the first package apart and grits his teeth in frustration. 

Gentle four-fingered hands take the package from his hands, and are opened easily with a slice of a talon. “My apologies, I forgot to open them for you,” the Jedi murmurs, a hint of kindness in his voice, and Wolffe swallows, looks away. He doesn’t need the Jedi’s sympathy.

“It’s fine,” Wolffe mutters and bites into the space waffle. A treat when the clones at Kamino are lucky, though the older clones usually save it for the younger cadets, the ones who are still young, bright, naive. He licks his lips at the sudden sweetness coating his tongue, swallows the bite and meets the Jedi’s gaze.

Said Jedi is sitting next to his bed again, and his shoulders are still relaxed like when Wolffe fought him. It’s startling calming, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything else but continues to eat the space waffle instead. His thoughts run through his mind, slightly veering into the direction of the thoughts of his brothers.

What are they doing now; the 104st Battalion? Suffering with their _vode_? Cleaning up the facilities? Reassuring their younger brothers that this would never happen again? Are the Kaminoans punishing them? The Separatists? Those questions run through his mind, and he harshly bites down on the inside of his mouth, feels the taste of sweet iron flooding his mouth.

“You shouldn’t panic,” the Jedi says quietly beside him.

“You kidnapped me. I _should_ be panicking,” Wolffe dryly points out, and ignores the tightening of his heart.

The Jedi seemingly, sadly smiles. “You would have fortified that hangar if I didn’t. I do enjoy sneaking in to see the cadets and telling them about the galaxy, despite what you think of me otherwise.”

Wolffe glances over him, slightly startled. The Jedi has been sneaking in to see the cadets? None of them even bothered to go and tell them what a Jedi has been seeing them? He bites back a growl, focusing his attention on the rest of the space waffle. The Jedi only slices open the other package and lays it in his lap, silence hanging over them.

It’s only broken when the Jedi speaks again. “I seem to have forgotten to get your share of water,” he says, and Wolffe feels like he can a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Would you like me to get it now?”

“Sure,” Wolffe says gruffly, with the other rising from his chair again with the grace only the Jedi possesses and leaves him alone with the last package in his lap. A brownie; also a rare treat to receive at Kamino. He lifts the snack to his mouth and nibbles on it, closes his eyes and savours it. 

It’s a little too sweet for his liking, but it’s enough to satisfy his hunger. His head is still pounding in his ears, his mind racing with questions, and it still hurts. Hurts because his brothers could be in danger, the Separatists could be decommissioning them, the ways they could wipe his brothers’ mind and restart them from anew.

Wolffe lifts his eyes when the doors open, revealing the Jedi holding a small hydration pack in his hands. Watches with narrowed eyes as the Jedi steps in and gently places it in his lap, steps back and sits down. It’s eerie, the way the Jedi is watching him and Wolffe can’t tell what he’s thinking, what with the rebreather and eye patches covering his emotions from being discovered.

“Anything else that you will need, Commander?” the Jedi asks, leans back against the chair, brown robes rustling against it.

“No,” he answers roughly, finishing the brownie and reaches for the hydration pack to drink. Silence surrounds them with the sharp edge of tension at the ends of it, and he ignores it, focusing on how to drink the damn thing with his hands cuffed.

The water’s sweeter than expected, but it’s welcome; his throat suddenly feels parched and Wolffe greedily drinks the rest of it. Some of it spills and drips down his skin, makes him finish the hydration pack and shake his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, the Jedi sits up straighter and is seemingly amused.

He feels his cheeks heat up. “Don’t you have better things to do than watch me drink water?” Wolffe asks flatly, tosses the hydration pack on one side of the bed.

Surprisingly, the Jedi laughs, muffled and warm. “Better things to do to you or to watch the cadets?”

“Stop spinning the situation around, Jedi.”

“Whatever do you mean?” the Jedi asks as he inclines his head, amusement seemingly radiating from him, though he doesn’t do anything but shift on his chair. “I did no such thing other than to answer your question, Commander.” Quiet, before- “Fond of orders, are you not?”

“I _hate_ you, Jedi,” Wolffe informs the Jedi viciously and with as much hatred as he can muster.

“You don’t know me well enough to hate me,” comes the cheeky response.

Wolffe snorts, unable to help himself as he glares at the offending Jedi. “You’ve been a pain in the _shebs_ , _jetii_ ,” he says, and the Jedi seemingly smiles, like there’s nothing more that pleases him than that fact. Then–

“I believe,” the Jedi says instead of mocking him, softly, with certainty, “that we will become good acquaintances.”

(It’s a few months later, Wolffe turns to watch the sharp gracefulness of the Jedi during the morning katas, thinks _you’re beautiful_ , and it turns to so much _more_.)


End file.
